


You're real?

by csigirl3137



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Angry John, Angst, Cheating, Comfort, Fluff, Hallucinations, Hand Jobs, Hurt, John thinks he's losing his mind, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csigirl3137/pseuds/csigirl3137
Summary: John has been without Sherlock for two years. Finally getting the nerve to go visit Baker Street, even though his mental constitution is fragile at best, John goes. When he gets there, he sees Sherlock, but there's no way it's his Sherlock, not alive at least. Sherlock is dead. And so it is, he's hallucinating a dead lost loved one, he's finally cracked.Or has he?





	You're real?

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little idea that'd been rattling around my brain since I saw Sherlock and John's reunion in the beginning of season three. I thought maybe this would be a better alternative. Albeit a little sad, but oh well. It's all's well that ends well. Sorry if the smut is hella rough! I'm still working on my skills in that area.

To say that John is surprised the first time he sees Sherlock, is an understatement.

“Hello John.” The deep baritone voice that greeted John as he stepped into flat B of 221 Baker street, made John’s heart skip a beat and his stomach drop. 

“Sherlock…” John’s voice was soft was he stared at the pale brunette figure, sitting in his leather chair, one leg propped on his other knee, wearing his usual suit jacket, dark purple button down shirt (John’s personal favorite) and slacks. 

“Hello John.” There was a fond smile on Sherlock’s face was John stood there and stared at him. “I suppose you’re surprised to see me aren’t you?” Sherlock questioned. John moved to the empty chair, his empty chair, opposite Sherlock and sat down. 

“I am. I never see you during the day. Mostly at night.” John replied softly, still not quite believing what he was seeing. A quizzical look crossed Sherlock’s face, but he dismissed John’s comment. 

“So, I see you’ve got a girlfriend again.” Sherlock observed. John glanced down at his person, wondering what gave that away, but not really caring, because it was Sherlock and even if John knew that this wasn’t really Sherlock, just something John’s still recovering but still traumatized brain had concocted, it was damn good to see him. 

“Yes I do. Her name is Mary. She’s a nurse. I met her at the hospital.”

“You’ve taken to caring for people again. Putting your skills to use.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. John nodded. 

“I have. Thought I’d be rusty, but was pleasantly surprised by the fact that I’m not.” 

“You’re a smart and talented man John Watson, the fact that you still retain all your skills and knowledge does not surprise me in the slightest.” John chuckled at Sherlock’s remark. 

“Thank you.” John flicked his eyes over Sherlock’s form, knowing that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t really here in the room with John, and despite the fact that it obviously wasn’t healthy and it was a plain indicator of the fact that John was still having issues coping, John didn’t care how far it might set him back. He had Sherlock back.

So, he spent the next two hours talking with his hallucination, and loving every damn minute of it, until his phone buzzed and reminded him that he had dinner reservations with Mary in an hour.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock questioned as John got to his feet.

“I have dinner reservations with Mary. I’ll be back though. That’s a promise. Bye Sherlock.” John gave Sherlock one last glance and sad smile as he crossed the threshold and made his way down the stairs, his brain not registering the confused expression on Sherlock’s face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

John went from rarely visiting 221B Baker Street to visiting every chance he got. Because every time he was there, he got to see Sherlock. According to his mind, Sherlock only existed at Baker Street. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there.” Mary commented one afternoon when he told her where he was going. “What happened to your vow to never go back?” 

“My therapist suggested that it might help me to find closure sooner if I was to visit again and I’ve found that visiting is helping quite a bit.” John explained. Mary accepted his explanation and didn’t question it farther. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John knew for a fact that he was going insane when he saw Sherlock on the tube on his way to work. Was he really that far gone that his mind was manifesting Sherlock in public places now?

“Hello John.” John was on the tube, standing, one hand wrapped around one of the support bars by the door, his phone in his hand when he heard Sherlock’s deep baritone next to him. John’s attention snapped up to see Sherlock standing in front of him.

“Sherlock, Jesus Christ.” John kept his voice soft.

“I take it you weren’t expecting to see me here.” Sherlock sounded amused as he looked down at John, his pale blue eyes intense.

“No I was not, and I can’t be talking to you.” John hissed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“Because, Christ Sherlock, because people will think I’m crazy.” John whispered. 

“Well… if that’s how you feel, and if you keep your original pattern, which I’m sure you will, then I will speak to you around 6pm this evening after your shift.” Sherlock spoke as the tube slid to a stop and the doors opened, announcing that they were at John’s stop. 

“Yes, sure, fine. Good bye.” John stepped off the train and on to the platform. He didn’t make his way to the exit right away though. He waited until the train doors had slid closed again and watched Sherlock, who in turn was watching him, through the glass windows of the doors of the train until it slid off into darkness and John couldn’t see him any longer  
.  
“Oh Christ I’m losing it.” John rubbed his hands over his face and made his way to the exit and up to the surface.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After two weeks of visiting and hallucinating Sherlock in public places, having had a bad day but still unconsciously needing to see Sherlock, John visited Baker street on his way home from the hospital.

“John what’s wrong?” Sherlock knew immediately that John was upset.

“I had a very rough day Sherlock. Nothing went right and I lost an ER patient.” And I’m vividly hallucinating my best friend, constantly. 

“Oh John. It’s okay.” Sherlock’s voice was soft, obviously trying to be comforting. It made John snap. 

“Jesus Christ Sherlock! IT’S NOT OKAY! NONE OF THIS IS OKAY!” John screamed, slamming his hands down on the edge of the desk by the window. 

 

"John…” Sherlock looked like he wanted to comfort John.

“No Sherlock. None of this is okay. None of this is okay! I’m going insane and I’m not doing anything to stop it! What part of that is okay!?” John screamed at Sherlock. 

“Sherlock? What’s going on?” A concerned voice spoke from the doorway. Both men turned to look.

“Mrs. Hudson.” John stated staring with wide eyes at their landlady in the doorway. 

“Everything is fine Mrs. Hudson. Just a slight disagreement.” Sherlock assured her.

“Are you sure you’re both fine Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock, in typical Sherlock fashion, rolled his eyes as shock and realization ran through John’s body like a livewire.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. You said his name.” John pointed to Sherlock without looking away from Mrs. Hudson. 

“Yes dear I did. Are you quite alright?” Mrs. Hudson looked concerned. 

“You said his name!” John yelled causing Mrs. Hudson to jump and then nod.

“Yes.” She confirmed. John started to get lightheaded as he felt like his entire world came crashing down around him. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

“So, that means that you, you can see him too?” 

“John what are you talking about? Of course I can see him. Sherlock is standing right there.” Mrs. Hudson pointed to where John could see Sherlock standing. A manic giggle escaped John’s lips sending Mrs. Hudson scurrying down the stairs as he realized that he was indeed still sane. He whirled around to face Sherlock.

“Jesus christ. You’re real. It’s you. Jesus Christ Sherlock!” John strode forward until he was toe to toe with Sherlock and poked a finger against Sherlock’s chest before giving his cheek a soft slap. 

“It’s real. It’s all real, you’re real, you’re you, you’re here! Oh my god.” 

“It’s me John. Very real.” Sherlock looked amused at the current proceedings. 

“You bastard! Couldn’t you see that I was losing my mind!?” John collapsed into his chair, his whole body suddenly tired.

“I’ll admit that I thought you were acting strangely, but I dismissed it as nothing more than shock and then it just became familiar.” Sherlock replied sitting down across from John.

“I thought I was hallucinating. I thought you weren’t real. Jesus Christ Sherlock! Do you have any idea what the past month has been like for me!?” John slammed his hands down on the arms of his chair before surging to his feet again, anger coursing through him like electricity and giving him a burst of energy.

“John, I’m very sorry that I didn’t make it explicitly clear to you that I was very much real. I thought you knew.” 

“Well obviously I didn’t!” John had moved and was now pacing back and forth across the room in front of the couch, looking very much like he wanted to pace a hole in the rug.

“My apologies. I shall make that very clear next time.” Sherlock very much wanted to placate John. He didn’t like it when John was mad at him. Even if he thought whatever John was mad about was trivial, he usually tried to fix it as soon as possible. This was the same way. He didn’t want John to be mad at him anymore.

“Next time!? Next time!?” John stalked forward and slammed his hands down on the arms of Sherlock’s chair, his smaller hands covering Sherlock’s, his nose only millimeters away from Sherlock’s, his dark blue eyes locked on Sherlock’s pale ones. 

“There’s not going to be a fucking next time. You are not putting me through this again. If you put me through this again, die and then do this whole coming back thing, I’ll kill you.” John’s voice was all anger and steel and commanding and it gave Sherlock goosebumps. “Got it?” John snarled, his voice authoritative and commanding. 

Sherlock wondered if this was what he sounded like as an army captain.

“Yes. Got it.”

“Good.” John’s confirmation of Sherlock’s reply was short and firm. And yet having got what he wanted, John didn’t move. He stayed with his hands on top of Sherlock’s, their noses almost touching, John looming over Sherlock instead of vice versa like normal. Sherlock’s breath hitched and it confirmed everything that they were both feeling.

Neither of them were sure who moved first but then they were touching, kissing. John’s lips against Sherlock’s, his hands coming up to tangle into those dark curls while Sherlock yanked John onto his lap so that they were chest to chest, John’s knees wedged between the sides of the chair and Sherlock’s thighs. Satisfied with the position that John was in, Sherlock moved his hands from their position on John’s hips to the front of his pants. His nimble fingers had John’s belt and jean buttons undone in less than ten seconds and then his hand was on John’s incredibly hard cock through the fabric of his pants. 

“Oh god!” John yelped and bucked his hips into Sherlock’s hand, his lips leaving Sherlock’s so he could cry out, his hands clutching the back of the chair for support. A wave of possessiveness, a feeling Sherlock was very familiar with when it came to John, rushed through Sherlock’s body and he took advantage of his current position to nip at John’s neck. Fingers of the hand that wasn’t busy with John’s cock started working on the buttons of the dark blue button down that John wore. 

Sherlock thanked whatever deity that existed that John wasn’t wearing a cardigan over his shirt today or a vest underneath, the smooth skin of John’s chest becoming exposed more and more with each button that came undone. Feeling the urge to touch and kiss and claim, Sherlock pressed his lips against where he knew John’s heart was located and after a gentle kiss to the skin there, Sherlock bit down while simultaneously dipping his hand into John’s pants, his warm skin coming into contact with the velvety soft skin of his erection. He dragged his thumb across the head of John’s cock and then rubbed his hand down over the thick length, John’s pre-cum as lube.

“Jesus Christ Sherlock!” John’s yell of Sherlock’s name filled the flat and shot straight to Sherlock’s own hard cock. John clutched Sherlock’s head to his chest as Sherlock pumped his hand up and down over John’s cock, John’s breath escaping him in gasps and whimpers. 

Feeling very much like he was going to explode right there, right then, into his pants and Sherlock’s hand, but knowing for a fact that he didn’t want it to be over yet. 

“Sherlock, stop, stop, you’ve got to stop.” John gasped as he yanked his hips back away from Sherlock’s hand, yelping when Sherlock’s grip didn’t lessen in the slightest and John’s hip yank caused him to inadvertently fuck into Sherlock’s hand, hard.

“What’s wrong John?” Sherlock’s voice was soft, terrified that he’d done something wrong as he released John’s cock.

“I was so close, and Jesus Christ I didn’t want it to be over yet.” John tried to even out his breathing. “I’m not going to have our first time in this chair. It’s a great chair but I was thinking more along the lines of having it in the bedroom.” John explained, Sherlock breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Mine or yours?” He asked. 

“Yours is closer.” John reminded him.

“So it is.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The walk to the bedroom was short, but it was passionate nonetheless. Hands scrabbling at clothing and fingers in hair, lips on lips. Once they reached the bedroom, John didn’t hesitate to shove Sherlock down onto his back on the bed. John followed him down, his fingers making quick work of the buckle of Sherlock’s belt and the button and zipper of his slacks. 

John yanked Sherlock’s black slacks and black pants down around his thighs, not bothering to yank them all the way off as what he was interested in was currently hard and standing proudly at attention. 

“Jesus Christ you’re gorgeous.” John murmured as he came eye to eye with Sherlock’s erection. Doing what he’d often thought about during his frequent late night wanks, John licked a stripe from the base to the crown of Sherlock’s erection. Sherlock let out a shuddering breath and fisted his hands in the duvet. 

John noted the reaction with carnal satisfaction.

“Oh you like that do you?” John grinned, the breath of his words ghosting over the tip of Sherlock’s swollen and leaking erection. 

“John, please…” 

Knowing what he was asking for and being too worked up to care about edging Sherlock along, John swallowed Sherlock’s erection down to the base.

“Hnnngh!” Sherlock let out a groan, John’s eyes flicking up from where he had his mouth full of cock to gaze at Sherlock’s face. His smooth skin was flushed, dark curls sticking to his forehead, eyes screwed shut. 

Suspicion confirmed that Sherlock was enjoying this, John focused all his attention back on the cock currently in his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down over the thick length, his tongue swirling around Sherlock’s cock, cataloging every single ridge and vein and the feel of Sherlock’s cock heavy against his tongue. He experimented with kitten licks over the tip, took Sherlock all the way down to the hilt, and bobbed his head up and down on Sherlock. Each of these different things elicited a different series of sounds, reactions and movements. John loved each of them.

It was times like this that John wished he had a mind palace of his own to file things away in. Especially things like this. How Sherlock sounded, how he looked, how he felt in John’s mouth, heavy and heady against his tongue. 

There was the sound of a drawer opening and then some rummaging around and then a bottle of clear liquid landed on the bed next to Sherlock’s hip. John gave it a look and then grinned around his current position of sucking on the tip of Sherlock’s cock. 

Lube.

Knowing exactly what to do with that, John popped the cap, drizzled some over his fingers and without his lips leaving Sherlock’s cock, he spread Sherlock’s legs (pants long since discarded) and pressed a single lubed finger against Sherlock’s tight entrance. 

Gently rubbing his finger back and forth across the little bud there, John gave it a few strokes before slipping his finger inside. Sherlock gasped and arched his back up off the bed, a hand leaving its position fisted in the sheets before slamming back down onto the bed with a loud thud. 

Pleased with this reaction, John swirled his tongue around the tip of Sherlock’s cock before taking him all the way to the base again. His non lubed hand delved between Sherlock’s legs to gently roll and fondle Sherlock’s balls. 

With his hand that was lubed up, John continued to work Sherlock open until he was able to easily take three fingers, all while he continued to gently roll and fondle Sherlock’s balls. By the time that Sherlock was ready to take John’s cock, he was a groaning whimpering mess. His dark curls were clinging to his forehead, sweat beaded on his brow. His fists clenched in the sheets so tightly that John thought Sherlock might rip the fabric. 

“John, John, John, fuck me now, please, oh god, please!” Sherlock was whimpering as his pale blue eyes flew open to lock on John’s face. Already feeling like he was going to explode and having waited way too long for this to happen, John removed his fingers from Sherlock’s arse, lifted Sherlock’s hips to give himself easier access. John drizzled more lube over his cock and after stroking his hand up and down a few times to make sure that he was fully coated, his pressed the head against the tight ring of muscle. A gentle push, a slick popping sound and then John’s head was inside of Sherlock. 

“Oh, oh, oh, John, John, please!” Sherlock begged. “I can take it all, please, please John!” Hearing the urgency in his cries and knowing that he probably wouldn’t last much longer, John rolled his hips and with one quick snap forward, he was fully seated inside Sherlock. Tight warm heat engulfed his cock and John felt his eyes close, eyeballs rolling back in his head. Knowing that if he moved right away, he’d just cum and be done, John froze for a minute, willing the tingling in his abdomen to fade.

“John!” Sherlock was writhing on the bed, squirming around while impaled on John’s cock. John thought it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. “Please John, please!”

“Easy Sherlock, easy, Jesus Christ you look so gorgeous, so handsome for me, god you’re amazing.” Using his hand that was sticky with Lube, John wrapped it around Sherlock’s cock and gave it a few strokes all while he started to gently move in and out of Sherlock’s body. Hearing a sound of distress from below him, John glanced down at Sherlock.  
Sherlock’s pale eyes were wide and frantic. His fists unclenched from the sheets and wrapped around the lapels of John’s still open shirt and he yanked John down so they were eye to eye.

“John if you don’t fuck me right now I’m not going to speak to you for a week and you can forget about doing this again.” Sherlock growled, his tone serious. John raised his eyebrows and smirked at Sherlock. 

“What? You mean like this?” He pulled out of Sherlock’s body until only the tip remained inside and then with one quick snap of his hips he bottomed out inside of Sherlock’s body, actually physically moving Sherlock a little bit farther towards the head of the bed. 

“Oh god yes John, like that.” Sherlock let go of John’s shirt and gripped John’s shoulders. 

His need to cum faded, John quickly set a bruising punishing pace in and out of Sherlock. Sherlock held onto John for dear life, his long legs wrapping around John’s hips, his nails digging into John’s shoulders. 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, John!” Sherlock was actually whimpering and it was right in John’s ear.

“Jesus fuck Sherlock.” The need to cum was steadily building again. A few more thrusts and John was right on the edge again. John started to pull out. 

“No!” Sherlock’s yell was insistent. 

“Sherlock I’m going to…” 

“I don’t care, oh god, John, please, yes please do it.” Sherlock begged. John shook his head as a grin crossed his face. 

“You asked for it.” Wrapping his hand around Sherlock’s cock again, John paced his strokes up and down Sherlock’s cock with his thrusts in and out of Sherlock’s body. 

“Oh fuck! Sherlock!” John came with a yell, empty himself into the warm tight heat of Sherlock’s body. The sudden heat and wetness inside him pushed Sherlock over the edge as well and then it was with a howl (that john did not think him capable of) Sherlock was coming, in long thick, hot spurts all over his purple shirt. 

“Oh Jesus.” John pulled his rapidly softening cock out and rolled off of Sherlock as they both lay there gasping like they’d just run a marathon.

“Mmm…” Sherlock hummed happily as he leaned over to place a kiss on John’s lips. 

“You are something else.” John stroked Sherlock’s cheek, his thumb trailing over those high cheekbones, a pink flush obvious in his pale skin. 

“You as well.” Sherlock grinned at John. They lay there in companionable silence for a while before his breathing deepened and John knew that Sherlock was asleep. Feeling exhaustion in his bones, John quickly followed suit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later on, in the midst of their post coital bliss, both of them showered and changed, John just wearing his pants, Sherlock in pajama pants and a thin tee shirt. Both of them tucked together under the soft duvet, John’s head on Sherlock’s chest. John was enjoying Sherlock’s fingers carding through his hair a more pressing thought occurred to him. He pressed his palms to his eyes. He groaned as he dragged his hands down over his face. Sherlock looked down at him, concerned. 

"What is it John?" 

"Nothing, it's nothing its just..." John shook his head and sighed. "What the hell am I going to tell Mary?”


End file.
